


Stitches

by fondofit



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Very light bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 05:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11396571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fondofit/pseuds/fondofit
Summary: For Rarepairweek Day 2: Wounds & BloodDrautos finds himself with an injured Shield and while that's nothing new, the reaction he gets from the other man is something he doesn't expect.





	Stitches

“Hold _still_.” Drautos says with a growl. Today was just not his day. He tried to avoid conflict, he really did, but there were times when Clarus would just cause him to tumble into something he didn’t want or need to be apart of. This evening’s raid on a small outpost not too far from the city was one of them. Drautos wasn’t even supposed to _be_ anywhere near this area tonight. He was supposed to be going over new recruit forms and supply lists for the Glaive, but here he was instead, a needle and thread in one hand and a heavily injured King’s Shield in the other.

It was supposed to be a simple scope out the compound and apprehend those who were deemed to be a threat. The small group of men sent on this mission were prepared for a couple of revolutionaries. And since it was supposed to be a short run, Clarus had asked Drautos at the last minute if he would have cared to join them. And despite his better judgement and the ire at being interrupted in the middle of his busy schedule, he had agreed.

He had regret that decision even before the group left Insomnia. 

But now, five hours later and holed up in Old Lestellium’s motel with blood on his hands, knew there wasn't much more he could do about the situation. Yes, their run ended up being a success. No, there weren't only four people in that hideout, but five times that number. So they'd need to bolster their intel team a bit more, which was something that was sorely needed to begin with.

So that brings them to here and now, Clarus with a large laceration across his arm trying to hold still while Drautos stitches him together. To be quite honest, Drautos isn’t quite sure why he volunteered to look after the Shield. Yes, they were familiar enough with each other that they could hold a conversation for more than ten minutes, but they weren’t exactly _friends_.

And this gods foresaken man would just not _hold still_.

“I said, and I repeat, _hold_ the fuck _still_.” 

Clarus grumbled something about how he was doing his best knowing that a needle was currently going through his skin, but he, thankfully, stopped fidgeting in his seat. Drautos tried to move as fast as he could, making sure the wound stayed clean and the stitching was neat enough to heal properly. It wasn’t a pleasant task and he would have preferred it if the King’s Shield didn’t come back with an infected arm. 

Drautos could tell Clarus was getting impatient with his leg bouncing and the red flush to his face. The Glaive captain would have been curious if Clarus hadn't grabbed his attention with a short, terse, “You done yet?”

Looking back at the wound, Drautos could see that the suture looked good and the knot was solid. He lifted the other hand that was still holding Clarus’s arm down and took out a gauze pad, dousing it in a good amount of disinfectant before dabbing lightly on and around the wound. 

He ignores Clarus’s sharp intake of breath, watching as the muscle holds and slowly releases under his hands as they work. Drautos takes another sterile bandage and covers the wound, taping the gauze pad around to make sure it’d make the ride back to Insomnia.

“Thanks.” 

Drautos couldn’t ignore the rawness in Clarus’s voice. He looks over to find the others eyes staring at him, asking him something he wasn't quite sure he could answer. Clarus moves towards him and presses his mouth to Drautos’s.

A warmth spreads through him, noise rushes in his ears as he presses back, a growl forming in the back of his throat. Clarus’s hands are suddenly on either side of his face, gripping his head to pull him forward out of his chair and towards him. Drautos nearly trips, but he doesn't let go. Instead, he starts using teeth, biting his disapproval as he’s led into Clarus’s lap. 

Drautos straddles Clarus’s legs as he’s being pulled close to Clarus. There’s not much movement other than Clarus’s arms wrapping around to grip at Drautos’s hips, holding them still as he grinds upwards. He feels Clarus groan under his lips, the vibrations echoing into his mouth as he bites back at him. He feels Clarus’s drier lips crack under the pressure and the light tang of iron comes mixed in with the other man’s saliva. Drautos groans and sucks on the other’s lip, biting just a bit hard. 

With a gasp, Clarus grinds his hips upwards as Drautos meets him halfway. Drautos’s hands latch onto Clarus’s arms and with a curse, Clarus continues the motion of his hips. Drautos feels his grip tighten as Clarus’s fingers slide down to the meat of his thighs and digs his them in hard.

“How close are you?” Clarus growls breathlessly as he keeps his motions going. Drautos is close, but hell if he’d admit it to the other man. He could tell the other man was feeling it too; what with how he had been pushing against the Shield’s hard cock for the better half of ten minutes. So instead of a verbal answer, Drautos tugs at the wrappings covering Clarus’s arm, watching as the pain intertwined with the other man’s lust. Clarus’s face was flushed a deep red as he came, tears in his eyes as he groaned, “Fucking fuck, Drautos.”

If the leader of Glaives felt he had won, the victory was short lived. Moments later, Clarus brings his hand to Drautos’s crotch in order to give it a few good rough tugs. Drautos ends up coming with his head resting on Clarus’s shoulder, fingers almost embedded into the man’s arms. When he lets go there are little red half-moons that litter his skin followed by a trail of fresh blood coming through and under the bandage that Drautos had patched Clarus up with.

“Damnit,” Drautos curses as he slowly lifts the tape and gauze. He’s relieved to see his stitches stayed, but frowned with the angry red mark that ran over the injury. “We’ll have to dress this again.”

Clarus shrugs with a satisfied smile on his face. He removes his soiled pants, sits back down and holds his arm out waiting for Drautos to continue where he left off. Not one to be outdone, Drautos follows suit, staring Clarus down as he removes his own soiled pants. He looks down at Clarus for a second, wondering how the hell he got to this point, as the Shield reaches out to grab his wrist to pull him back in.


End file.
